


It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

by enjoura



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Genderbent Bahorel, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unrequited Love, there will be bones (literally), will be adding specific character tags and ship tags as the next chapters develop around those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjoura/pseuds/enjoura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Blame it on the season"</p><p>Or Advent and Christmas Revolutionary Shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

Grantaire, for once, recognises that there is something he's incredibly good at: his talent -or superpower, really- is being unpredictable.

When people are expecting an empty shell, he gives them witty lines and strong arguments. Where people expect to find a selfish bastard - okay, he is indeed selfish, but it could never compare to all the generosity he's able to spare for his friends: he has never missed one of Jehan's poetry readings, and always looks fresh and is almost completely sober when he turns up. He walks Cosette (bless her, his platonic soul mate, his moirail, a beacon of light when Apollo turns away) everywhere, even if he has things to do.

Truth be told, Cosette is perfectly capable of looking after herself, but he _wants_ to look after her. Which is a whole new feeling, because he is probably one of the least paternal beings walking the face of the earth.

Not paternal, no, but protective, on the other hand? Well.

You don't have to ask Grantaire, and he'll be there. He is always there. When Feuilly needs soup at three in the morning(" _how can you even cook drunk? Is it even legal to cook that drunk?_ "), or when Éponine needs another sweatshirt to sleep in, or something she cannot afford. Whenever Joly is sick, or his hypochondria gets out of control, he is always there to reduce his stress levels, because Grantaire _knows_. You don't even have to ask him, and he'll be there.

Specially if you are Enjolras. It doesn't matter if you had a terrible argument the night before: the elusive R is going to be there, orbiting the Fearless Leader when he has to give an important speech. He'll always be there to back up Bahorel when the bright red, unspoken "Fuck Off" doesn't get to whatever asshole is creeping up on her. For being someone with incredibly dubious standards, Grantaire is one of the most decent friends this sodding world can give you.

So, when Jehan - resident homeboy, and best friend, storms into his room, in an oversized Christmas sweater, and smelling a little bit like Courfeyrac (which is a subject he doesn't mention, and doesn't push into conversation until he is ready to talk about it), the little poet is not at all surprised Grantaire is up fairly quickly, ready to give up his precious sleeping hours for him.

To be fair, an overexcited Jean Prouvaire is something very few people can resist. The boy wears his heart upon his sleeve like a shield, and Grantaire can't _ever_ deny him something that would make him smile. Not even Killjoyras can.

( _Killjoyras, noun: 1. creature often sprayed with water. 2. destroyer of dreams and happy reveries. 3. Someone who glares murderously at people or things, giving angry rants of general disapproval to the point of making the receiving end cry. Commonly known as 'Enjolras'._ )

"R! Wake up!" Jehan is incredibly strong for being so lean, and very easily forgets it. However, Grantaire is reminded immediately, thank you, because he is shaking him awake, and he's never been one to suffer from seasickness, but all this rocking might cause him to start. "You know what day's today?"

"No, I don't," Grantaire stretches, and then rubs his eyes; once opened, he finds Jehan in all fours over him, his hair in a braid. R thinks he might collapse any moment, as he hadn't seen him this excited since Combeferre and Joly let him into the the anatomy lab and the morgue.

"It's Sunday: the first of advent."

He isn't sure what that means. Jehan rolls his eyes, giggling a bit at R's confusion.

"It means we have to set up the Christmas tree!"

"You have scheduled dates for this sort of things?" Apparently Jehan does, as he gets out of R's way allowing him to get out of bed, a lingering question still in his eyes; and just because Grantaire is Grantaire - snarky, sarcastic, far too prone to drinking, would be completely lost in life if it weren't for his friends- and that means _he knows_ , he smiles, and answers before his best friend even asks. "Yes, I will go with you. I'll go with you to church this evening, sure. If we go get coffee on our way back."

Jehan gives him a crushing hug, and speeds off downstairs, leaving R wincing at Jehan's strength for the second time in about as many minutes.

They all live in a house together, thirteen people in a house meant for no more than eight, but not a single one of them would have it another way: it doesn't matter how cramped they are, or how they had to write down a setlist of rules - suggestions, really. The only actual rule was the number seven: never to let Enjolras under the substance of any drug, legal or not, without sober and responsible supervision. This was added as a suggestion after the "Viva la Pluto" incident, marked as the _only_ rule after he tried to desecrate a certain star spangled banner.  For someone so focused on social revolutions, he comes up with the stupidest, craziest shit when drunk. R, obviously, follows suit.

Regardless, it doesn't matter how there's never space anywhere, all of it taken up by far too many cats and innumerable books. There are no coasters, because instead, they use books; no doorstops, for they have books. They're piled on the staircase - everyone is still surprised that Joly hasn't complained about that, because it's a _very_ narrow spiral staircase. But that's just it: no one minds, not at all. It doesn't matter having to pay a little extra rent so Feuilly needn't pay his part of it. There's nothing better than walking into a humming Musichetta making tea, or Combeferre leaning into a wall, with a cup of coffee - he has an addiction, everyone swears to it, fighting a laugh at Courfeyrac's shenanigans. 

R has the best room: the attic. He has space for his canvases, and he doesn't mind sharing the space with the rest of Les Amis' boxes, or books, since it's far too big for him alone. Grantaire knows everyone is surprised with that he's never knocked over any of the book-towers on the way to his room. But then again, he's one of a kind and they know it; secondly, he has a certain catlike grace, somewhat misplaced by his alcohol consumerism, but it's never left him, anyhow.

He smiles vaguely as he thinks about it, pulling a jumper over his head to combat the early morning chill; it's only when they hit the ground floor that Grantaire realises it's far too damn early. 

"Jehan?"

"Keep your voice down. I don't want them all to wake up."

"What time is it?"

"Six thirty."

The ' _what_?' that comes out of the his mouth is at least an octave higher than his usual tone, and it makes Jehan shush him again.

"Keep. your. voice. _down_." The poet mouths. He offers R a cup of coffee, and R doesn't raise his voice again; doesn't dare, because there aren't many things in this world as scary as Jean Prouvaire when he's angry. He even scared Montparnasse off once, which says it all.

"Are you really going to try and smuggle a pine tree into the house when they're so in danger of extinction? Or, actually, a better question: are you _asking_ for Enjolras to have a nervous breakdown?"

"What even-?" Jehan is laughing before he's even finished the sentence.

"Oh, I missed it, didn't I?" Grantaire flops down on the bottom step of the staircase, and lets out a loud sigh of faux-disappointment over the rim of his mug.

"I just want to set up the tree and all the ornaments before everyone else gets up, to give them a surprise. Christmas is a time of the year when you are supposed to give yourself to others," Jehan shrugged, "so I guessed this would cheer them up. And I know you don't especially mind Christmas, but you love being around us, so."

Grantaire just looks at him, silently. "There's not enough whiskey in this coffee for you to make me go sentimental." But on his way to the kitchen to solve that issue, R presses a kiss to Jehan's lips, and Jehan smiles. It's something they've been sharing for years now, and it's comforting, grateful, never romantic; despite that, the gesture never lacks love. 

"Blame it on the season." Jehan counters, before he moves across to the tree, eyes assessing, and R escapes to the kitchen. 

Coffee in hand, Grantaire begins making breakfast for all thirteen of them. Out of all of them, Cosette is the best baker and Courfeyrac and him are the best cooks, but out of the two there is no denying Grantaire's cooking is deserving of awards.

It's been about eight months since he'd started living with them and yet he still remains the cynic. No one aside from Jehan knows why he sticks around the meetings, or goes to the rallies. They seem to imagine he helps with the design of the official Les Amis de l'ABC web pages and the pamphlets or posters because it's an extension of his generous nature. 

That is partly one of the reasons he'd stayed: because they make him feel useful. He had met Jehan in high school, and he was the reason R hadn't flunked out. It was through Jehan that he'd met the rest of them and it's because of every single one of them that he isn't a college dropout, either. All of them help. Even Enjolras. 

Especially Enjolras.

Enjolras has become a constant in his life that he still doesn't really want to accept is there. No, it's much preferable to call him names and crush his pedestal with well placed remarks during the meetings. Enjolras, who never admits it was he who had suggested Grantaire move in - which is one of the many things they _do not_ talk about.

It doesn't make it any better. Because Enjolras will likely never appreciate him enough, and if there's someone to blame, it's R himself. 

"R?" Jehan calls from the living room - the chant of angel saviours, lovely creature. He leaves the french toast: they're big guys, they can look after themselves for a while, he tells them. Grantaire leaves them on their own because that's what he does when the loves of his life call: he goes.

However drunk, lost, depressed or angry at them he is, he will be there. To take care of Cosette - who keeps train tickets and gives everyone second hand embarrassment when she dances. He will be there to attend whatever Jehan wants - the odd boy with eager bambi eyes and slightly feminine looks, but who could also crush you in a second. And, as much as he hates it, he will be there for Enjolras, however vicious or cruel he can be. Grantaire will be there because that's just who Grantaire is.

Jehan looks pleased with himself. It's nearly eight now and the light is peaking through the windows, making some of the ornaments shine in a peculiar fashion. Only- it's not the light which makes it look odd. It's just the _ornaments._

Grantaire is impressed, once again, with his best friend. "You are going to give Joly a heart attack. Enjolras will scream. And Combeferre will sit you down and probably tell you you are not allowed to ever again go near the anatomy lab because you'll get ideas."

"You don't like it, then?"

"I fucking love it." 

* * *

"R, its nine in the morning, and you are making mulled wine?"

"Good morning to you too, my dear eagle. Why, of course I am."

Bossuet laughs and pours himself a cup of coffee after patting Grantaire's back. "I'm not one to question your ways but I've never seen anyone making mulled wine so early."

"I'm making eggnog later on. You know my ways: I am a rockstar, I party like a rockstar, etcetera. The cheaper version of Billy Mac in Love Actually, but hey, you won't hear me complain."

Bossuet snorts into his coffee.

Feuilly zombie-shuffles his way into the kitchen, also not noticing the tree; Grantaire already has an extra strong cup of coffee poured for him. Éponine demands mulled wine, not coffee, when she appears and the grand R delivers. She tries to steal a slice of french toast, but Jehan catches her mid act - he is a ninja, they all swear to it- and demands that no one tries any food until every single one of them takes a look at the Christmas tree. 

"You put up the Christmas tree?"

"We _have_ a Christmas tree?"

"Yup. Christmas is for giving yourself to others and as much fun as it is, it's also hard work, so I wanted you to enjoy the first day of advent _without_ work." Jehan shrugs it off because he is a humble creature and as much as he'd wanted the tree to be noticed, he never makes things about him. Its for their friends, always. Grantaire can relate to that.

But they don't need to go out of the kitchen - already cramped, mimicking the rest of the house, for someone to notice the tree, because at that precise moment, Joly announces his presence with a scream and a series of loud stomps as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"Are those _real skulls_?"

"Happy Holidays from the Psychopaths for Social Equality," Grantaire quips, and then Joly is laughing instead of worrying.

Marius is also freaked out by the Christmas tree. By the time he's up - around ten past nine, when Christmas carols are blasting out the loudspeakers of the radio, but are soon replaced with one of Marius's _Christmas with The Rat Pack_ vinyl. He has the best record collection of all of them and what he lacks in terms of coordination, he makes up for in caring for his vinyls.

When Courfeyrac and Combeferre get downstairs, Jehan is hanging mistletoe and is caught underneath it with Courfeyrac, and because Courfeyrac is Courfeyrac he steals a kiss from the poet's lips. Jehan blushes and Combeferre lets out a low chuckle, extending his arm for R to get him coffee.

"Jesus, Combeferre. You have a problem."

"Grantaire." 

"Okay, okay." After a moment of silence, the definitive question arises: "If there's no breakfast until we all see the tree, who'll wake Enjolras up?" 

"Speaking of the tree: Jehan, we have to talk." Combeferre says over the rim of his mug. Jehan pouts but accepts his fate and it doesn't matter how much Combeferre claims to understand the metaphor - something he, as matter of fact, does- because he still makes Jehan promise he won't bring any sort of thing that used to belong to a dead _anything_ inside, even if he knows the skulls in the tree are replicas.

(Joly, on the other hand, is not so sure they're replicas.)

It's Grantaire who finally goes to wake up Enjolras, armed with a coffee mug, because Enjolras in the morning snarls at everything; living or inanimate, he _will_ snarl at it. For someone Grantaire is constantly associating with the Greek God of Sun, he really isn't a morning person.As per usual, Grantaire in his misplaced catlike grace climbs the book-ridden spiral staircase without dropping the coffee or the books- staircase: 0, Grantaire: however-many-days-he's-been-living-here.  Its not like he's been counting them. Obviously. Not even the days he's been in love with Enjolras. He doesn't have a specific number at all.

He does _not_ repeat that number to himself and he does _not_ hesitate when he knocks softly and opens the door. It occurs to him that he has never actually been inside Enjolras' room before. It also occurs to him, he should probably be the most generous he's ever been with the inhabitant of the room. He can't be perfect, but if he Christmas-wishes to be perfect for the boy with wild, blond curls sleeping curled protectively around his cat, Liberté, in a duvet nest that looks as soft as Enjolras is generally stoic, perhaps he can be something close to it. Grantaire is the spirit of the house, whether its Christmas or not, and the house is an inanimate object. And R does _not_ feel - at all- like he is one, too, most of the time.

"Enjolras?" He looks for a table to put the mug on. "Enjolras, wake up."

Enjolras mutters a response, but he doesn't move. Grantaire leaves the mug on a table that's placed against the wall on his left. If one wishes to be accurate, Grantaire left it on a pile of books - a Robespierre biography, to be even more precise. Enjolras is going to be mad about that if he ever surfaces. The walls are red, which is not a surprise, and he has a queen size bed- white sheets, a white duvet, those fancy ones stuffed with goose feathers, most likely, and a red quilt Enjolras had picked out in the Saint Ouen flea market, and had only been allowed to use it after Joly, Combeferre and Eponine had ganged up on him to wash it.

There are also two bookshelves, overflowing with books of all sizes, and his window has blackout shutters. He has a map of France, several posters - one of them from The Who, which makes Grantaire smile- and a stack of CDs against a wall.

Grantaire sighs, turning away from the room as a whole, and tries to wake Enjolras again. This time he mostly succeeds, offering him coffee with a grin. 

"R?" Enjolras takes a sip of his coffee and tries to stretch so he can open the shutters. Grantaire does that instead, to which Enjolras mutters a "thank you", and proceeds to check his mobile phone.

"There's breakfast downstairs. Also, eggnog and mulled wine. Jehan set up the tree by himself."

"Are you listening to Christmas carols?"

"Blame it on the season, Apollo. Y'coming?"

"In a second."

"I'll wait outside then."

Grantaire heart is pounding in his ears as he leaves the room, but he is smiling.

The tree is- well, _big_ , for starters. Enjolras never even knew they owned one and he doesn't want to ask where Jehan got it. Last year they piled up some books and haphazardly threw some fairy lights over them to simulate a Christmas tree. But last year they hadn't numbered thirteen.

The tree is decorated with flowers, red and purple ribbons, the mandatory fairy lights, and skulls. Potentially real ones. Honestly, only Jehan would even consider something like it. Enjolras keeps staring at the tree whilst he eats his breakfast and can't decide if it's just disturbing, or if it's actually incredibly beautiful.

"Its a metaphor!" Jehan had said, defensively, when asked. "Christmas is about giving yourself to others- it's about _love_ , so I figured I'd put the things I love most in the tree. Also, Christmas is the birth of Jesus, who saved us with his _death_ : 'And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted-nevermore!': The liberation of death!"

It isn't that Jehan doesn't make sense when he's over excited: it's that he doesn't even bother to finish his sentences most of the time. There are too many things he wants to say, too many things going through his mind in meter and verse form, and Enjolras wonders what he'd been like as a teenager. He knows Jehan and Grantaire were a couple of years apart; Grantaire, though, hadn't been surprised at all to see Jehan in _his_ literature class, because Jehan was born for words, just, arguably, as Grantaire himself had been, to some degree.

As Enjolras decides he genuinely likes the ornaments, he catches Grantaire's gaze as he looks back from the tree and averts his own gaze quickly, trying not to be awkward.

He's suddenly hit with the realisation that R had been in his room, had woken him up- had seen him in his most vulnerable, half-awake and drowsy state, and finds, surprisingly, that he minds far less than he expects to.

* * *

They end up in church.

After the general consensus that Jehan shouldn't be allowed to decorate the tree on his own ever again, they all notice how he continues with his day a little crestfallen and no one can bear to see Jehan sad. There's a certain amount of melancholy they can handle from him, because the boy can _feel_. He and Courfeyrac are the house's emotional antennas.  And okay, so maybe Joly will never be convinced those skulls are replicas, but Grantaire makes a well placed joke everytime he starts to fret. Joly's pseudo-hypochondria is the result of being constantly worried about mostly everything and as long as you can keep his stress levels to a manageable level, everything will run smoothly. That sorted, Grantaire politely makes the suggestion that they go to church, like Jehan had wanted them to. _For Jehan_.

Feuilly and Éponine walk arm in arm all the way there because they feel alienated at the very thought of it. Éponine is plainly unfamiliar with the idea and despite Feuilly's orphanage having roots in Catholicism, no one had ever explained anything to him coherently. Jehan takes it upon himself to right this and spends about ninety percent of the service talking.

Along with Marius and Cosette, he is the only one who is truly religious. Combeferre says, quite logically, that there must be something out there, but that he does not know what that might be, and since he works with facts and evidence and knowledge, there's simply no basis for him to subscribe to any particular religion. Courfeyrac disagrees on some basic views most religions shared, so he stood in neutral territory. As for Grantaire- well, he believes in only one thing.

Enjolras, at first, had complained about the service (" _I have things to do._ ") but ends up going (" _No you don't, Apollo, make Jehan happy_.") because firstly, he has a terrible soft spot for Jehan (" _I am not going to be dragged along because you decide what to do with my time!_ "), and secondly, because Enjolras's main drive might be social revolution, dismantling the current _very mistaken_ structure of society and hopefully crushing the kyriarchy, but, just like Jehan, the core of his drive is the love he has for his friends. He had been raised a catholic, but he'd drifted away from it - he needs _more._ He wants change. He feels part of something bigger (and besides, anything he hasn't chosen for himself tends to rile him a little). He wonders if Jehan's religion makes him feel part of something bigger, too.

It's as he's considering this, leaning on a pillar and completely lost to the world, and startles when Grantaire appears next to him.

"Scrutinising the mere mortals?" R asks in a whisper.

Enjolras is taken aback, forced back into reality by Grantaire's words. He frowns slightly, concentrating. Enjolras doesn't _understand_ Jehan, as much as he loves him- he can never predict what he's up to. It only ever approximates a game of chance and uncertainty.

Enjolras hates uncertainty. 

"No, I was just thinking about listening, actually. To see what it is that Jehan gets from this." Grantaire glances at him, surprised, but follows his gaze to the minister.

" _We live in a world where we are taken from place to place, where we are told and taught its okay to walk over others: and I tell you "no", as there is no sign of Christ in said actions. We see people with their heads down, complaining, discouraged, raddled: and I tell you "no", that is not how a Christian walks through life. Because we know there's something better, and we have to take the decision of bringing that 'something better' into the world. Maybe not us, maybe we are old now, but you - the youths, listen to what the Pope says: make noise! It is in your hands, our hands, to change the world. But if we are willing to change it, let us make it a better place. Are we making the world a better place? Think about that._

Jehan Prouvaire is a very odd individual. He is soft-spoken and gentle, and embraces androgyny as a general cause, but no one can deny he's intrepid and fearless. He's always kind, but he can speak with a vibe similar to Enjolras when he thinks something is wrong. He's shy, but loves talking to people and in contrast of his love for flowers and love itself, he's a self-professed pyromaniac and has the best resistance for gore _ever_. 

He'd decorated a Christmas tree for them, and that's proof enough of who Jean Prouvaire is.

"Oh," Enjolras breathes. Grantaire smiles at him, slow-burning, and their shoulders brush as he settles against the pillar beside Enjolras. He doesn't move for the rest of the service. 

* * *

When Jehan makes a promise he keeps it, and he'd promised Grantaire there would be coffee after the service - and he is very happy to see the Musain is also in seasonwise spirits.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Saff - my wonderful beta, friend, and Combeferre to my Enjolas [Fronzenphire here, and hellinhighwaters on tumblr].  
> Also to Jemma - my Courfeyrac [courfey-cat on tumblr] for the general review.  
> And to you, kind reader.
> 
> Next time: a strange way of bonding, new year plans and expectations!


End file.
